


Tear It Up (the rule book that is)

by Nina78Leigh



Series: Tear It Up 'Verse [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, more than just a hand spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:06:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina78Leigh/pseuds/Nina78Leigh
Summary: My take on why Brian needs his first punishment.This will make absolutely no sense without having read tartymoriaty's fabulous fic first, as it is an alternative scene set heavily in her universe - see https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686058/chapters/41717303 (toe the line (and play their game))





	1. Brian

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [toe the line (and play their game)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686058) by [tartymoriarty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tartymoriarty/pseuds/tartymoriarty). 



> For more detailed notes, see Chapter 2 (Notes and explanations) 
> 
> Set in tartymoriaty's Toe The Line universe, this is my take on why Brian gets his first punishment. This will make no sense at all if you have not read tartymoriaty's fabulous fic first. It is somewhat heavier and darker than tartymoriarty's fic to date though, my plot bunnies tend towards the evil! This takes place as an alternative to chapters 6 and 7.
> 
> As with the Toe The Line universe, it is set post Live Aid, none of the guys are in a relationship and Freddie does not yet know he has Aids. I picture the characters from the movie verse (Gwilym!Brian and so forth) but whatever works for you.
> 
> Tartymoriarty: Many thanks once again for letting me play in your sandbox, I hope I have done justice to your fabulous universe.
> 
> I'm a Brit, so spelling may be quirky, words and expressions may be unfamiliar. Let me know in the comments if this is the case and I will add explanations to chapter 2 - those with superscript numbers are already there. Also if you catch anything period untypical, spelling mistakes, grammatical mistakes or anything else wrong, please let me know.

Brian had fucked up. It was inevitable, he was no more of a saint than any of the others and the rules were for them all to obey. The system was there to prevent things falling apart again, and he was as capable as causing problems as anyone.

No, it wasn’t the fact that he had fucked up that had him shut away in his house, phone off the hook. It wasn’t fear of the impending punishment that meant he had spent the last days (how many days? 1? 2? 5? 10? he had quickly lost all track of time) lying on his bed in the gloom, curtains closed. No, it was the guilt of knowing just how badly he had fucked up.

Right back at the beginning, when he had meted out only two punishments (Freddie and Deaky, who would ever have predicted that combination?), and they were sat around the table making out the list of rules they all had to abide by, Roger had come up with possibly the most important rule of all – **DON’T ACT IN TEMPER**. Right from the very beginning, Brian had been the disciplinarian. He had been the one to suggest the system, and the one they all looked to when it needed enforcing. He was acutely aware that each rule was only a suggestion until he accepted it. It was taken without saying that he would be the one to dole out any punishment decided by the non-offending members of the band. **DON’T ACT IN TEMPER** – the only rule that could really only be broken by himself, unless any of the others suddenly decided they wanted to take on the role of disciplinarian, which seemed very unlikely. **DON’T ACT IN TEMPER** – the one rule he had smashed through as though it didn’t exist.

_It had started on the Sunday. There was an article in one of those so called newspapers 1 (red-top, tabloid, gutter-press, scum, so many names for them, none of which adequately conveyed Brian’s feelings about them). He should have learnt by now not to let himself react to whatever lies they printed, should know better than to let it get under his skin, but it was obviously a lesson he needed to study again because the printed words were replaying over and again in his brain, slowly winding him up._

_Then Monday started… late! He hadn’t slept well (bloody insomnia strikes again). There had obviously been an issue with the power whilst he had actually managed to sleep, because instead of waking to the sound of his alarm, he had woken to silence and a flashing number showing on his alarm clock 2. A glance at his watch had told him he was due at the studio in less than 15 minutes. He missed his morning workout, leaving him feeling antsy. He skipped his morning shower, leaving him feeling sticky (there was no way he could tackle his hair in time, and even just getting it all under a shower cap took forever). When he flicked the switch on his kettle in order to have his coffee, the fuse blew. At this point Brian gave up and slammed his way out of the front door, figuring he would get a coffee at the studio – once he had battled his way through the traffic that was._

_Normally he wouldn’t have bothered going in. Normally he would have called the studio and told the others he would be out for the day, but there was a meeting with Miami later on that day to go over the upcoming album and tour, promotional stuff, single release dates, and various other gubbins that comes with being a rock star. He really needed to be there for it, they all did. So he made his way in, tired, antsy, sticky, uncaffeinated, mind churning over the day’s fish and chips wrappers 3, and **late**. So it was of little wonder that he was on edge before his working day even started._

_Striding into the studio, coffee mug in one hand, the case containing his Old Lady slung over his back, he wasn’t any calmer than he had been when he left his house. If anything the traffic had wound him up even more. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught worried looks thrown between the others. He ignored it, and after taking a gulp of his coffee, he placed down the case and unzipped it, hoping some time strumming would help restore his balance somewhat. Not speaking, keeping himself to himself until he was ready to speak. But the first time he ran his sixpence along the strings resulted in the old girl having five playable strings instead of six. His frown deepened, he took great care to place the guitar on its stand instead of throwing it down as he wanted, and stormed over to the drawers where he kept all his well organised spare bits and pieces._

_A hand that gently landed on his shoulder was shaken off. Could they not see he needed some time alone._

_“Brian, why don’t you let me get that for you, whilst you start unstringing the old set?” came Freddie’s voice close behind him._

_He spun around, growling “I’m perfectly capable of finding my own guitar strings, don’t you think?”_

_“Normally yes, but…” Fred trailed off into silence, not wanting to elaborate further given the glare Brian was directing at him._

_“But...” That wasn’t just a warning tone in Brian’s voice, that was a tone nobody present had ever heard before, and between them they had seen Brian in just about every mood imaginable._

_“But...” Fred’s nerve gave out again and he took a few steps backwards, glancing over his shoulder for support._

_“...Freddie and Roger thought it would be amusing to play a little prank” Deaky completed for him, as the silence began to drag._

_That was when Brian finally snapped. His memory becomes fuzzy from that point on, he has a vague recollection of grabbing out for Freddie, saying something about a spanking neither of them would forget in a hurry. A snapshot of Deaky making sure Freddie and Roger were safely out of the room and then standing in front of the door, preventing Brian from opening it, telling Brian he needed to calm down and Brian yelling back that he was calm. Somehow, he has no idea how, he ended up back at his house._

_It didn’t really matter what had happened though. He had lost his temper and tried to take it out on Freddie and Roger._

_**DON’T ACT IN TEMPER** _

He hears the doorbell ring somewhere beneath him. Can they not take a hint? He hasn’t been into the studio, his phone is not accepting calls (because the handset is buried in the hallway drawer instead of on the cradle of the phone as it should be4), he just wants to be left alone. He hears the front door open, then close, as though someone has let themselves in. Why oh why did he let them have a key to his door? (Actually, they all have a key for each others property, and the chains are never on. They all live alone and sometimes there is a need to check all is well). 

Footsteps are coming up the stairs, and along the landing towards his bedroom door. Only one set of footsteps. He idly wonders who the sacrificial lamb is, coming to face the lion in his den – not that he feels much like a lion at the moment.

To his surprise, the bedroom door was flung open with a bang, revealing the shorter stature and blond hair of his oldest friend. 

“You’ve had 48 hours, that’s long enough. You. Kitchen. 30 minutes. I want you showered and shaved, teeth cleaned and dressed in clothes that are currently hanging in your closet. Oh and open those fucking curtains and windows. It stinks in here.”

Brian blinks in shock. He has never, ever heard Roger speak like that to anyone before. Before he has chance to respond, Roger has disappeared from his doorway, footsteps heading back towards the stairs. He figures he had better do as ordered (there is no other description to fit what Roger just snapped out at him). He tries to stand and finds his legs wobble slightly underneath him, not really surprising given that he has barely moved in the last 48 hours (apparently, as that is what Roger has just told him). There has been the very occasional trip to empty his bladder and grab a glass of water from the bathroom tap, but nothing else.

28 minutes and 30 seconds later, he is stood outside his kitchen doorway, nervous about turning the handle, not sure of the reception he is going to get. Something smells good though, his stomach is starting to rumble, realising just how long it is since he has eaten (somewhere in the region of 60 hours he thinks, definitely not in the last 2 days because he hadn’t managed breakfast on the Monday morning, he can’t remember what time he ate on the Sunday, wound up as he was by the newspaper article. Shit it may be as long as 72 hours, no wonder he is feeling slightly nauseous along with his legs feeling like they can’t bear his weight). He grits his teeth and opens the kitchen door, he isn’t going to compound whatever punishment is coming his way. He sees Roger stood at the cooker, spatula in hand. Toast is under the grill and it looks like there is a pan of scrambled eggs on the hob.

“I figured something light would be best, I suspect food hasn’t been high on your list of priorities this last couple of days” Roger states, as he butters the toast, slicing it into triangles before loading the food onto a plate and sliding it in front of Brian. A mug of tea follows, before Roger takes a seat opposite, nursing his own mug of tea. “Eat up.”

It takes several tries for Brian to be able to thank Roger, and even then it comes out in a croaky whisper. He concentrates on eating, the silence around them being less awkward than he feared. He manages just over half before his stomach starts to rebel. 

“Oh Brimi” he hears Roger sigh from across the table and looks up in curiosity. “You really have hurt yourself, haven’t you. More than anyone else, you have hurt yourself. Look, I need to nip into the living room for a minute. You try to drink some of that tea, and I need you to scrape your plate and do the dishes as well. I’ll be back in a bit.”

As Roger slips out of the kitchen, Brian sips on his tea. He hears murmured voices from the living room and realises that they are all here. When Roger walks back in 15 minutes later, nothing has changed except that there is slightly less tea in the mug sat in front of Brian. The plate, with the remnants of the scrambled egg and toast, is still on the table, the pan still sat on the hob.

Roger’s hand lands lightly on Brian’s shoulder. “Come on through to the living room” he says, quietly, carefully.

Brian looks at the mess in front of him.

“It can wait. You can’t. Come on, nothing is going to be worse than what you are doing to yourself. We’ve talked, we know what you need.”

Brian lets himself be tugged from the chair, Roger’s hands in his. As soon as he is stood, Roger wraps his arms around Brian’s waist and gives him a hug. “It’s all going to be alright, you’ll see.”

He follows Roger into the living room, sees Deaky and Fred sat on his couch. Before he can sit down, they each rise and give him a hug as well. He lands in the armchair with a thump. He can’t take the kindness, he needs punishment, can’t they see that?

The other three all sit on the couch, Deaky in the middle, flanked by the other two. As Brian’s chair has been situated directly opposite (he hates it when people mess around with his furniture but he supposes he can’t say too much at this moment in time) he feels a bit like he did when he was at school, called in to see the headteacher, only this time there are three he is facing, not just one.

It appears that Deaky’s position isn’t accidental, he starts speaking almost immediately, giving Brian no chance to sink back into his head.

“What happened the other day Brian?” He held up a finger as Brian started to respond. “Not in the studio, we all saw that. What else happened, what led up to it? Because that was not like you, none of us have ever seen you like that before, especially not over a daft prank.”

“I am so sorry, so so sorry. I never meant for any” His voice was slightly less croaky than earlier, but it was still quiet, much quieter than normal, and that was saying a lot.

Deaky cut him off, sternly although with kindness as well. “There will be plenty of time for apologies Brian, but I asked a question and I expect it answered”

Brian thought back, and haltingly explained each step, the anger at the newspaper article, compounded by each event on Monday morning. He noticed a glass of water on the coffee table situated between his chair and the couch, sipping from it as he spoke helped his voice return to something like normal, though his throat still felt scratchy.

“But how come we’ve never seen you like this before?” Roger asked. “I’ve known you a long time Brian, and this is the first time I have ever seen you lose your temper that spectacularly. Me and Fred, yeah, but never you.”

“Those handful of days I’ve called in, not fit to come into the studio. Those are the days I’ve been like that. I normally burn it out with a session in the gym, or by losing myself in music, or just going back to bed and ignoring it all. But I knew we needed that meeting with Miami and so I forced myself in.”

“But that meeting didn’t happen after all, did it Brian?” Deaky again, disapproval strong in his voice. “And it would have been better if you had called in, rather than Miami turning up to the aftermath of your explosion. Because explaining that one was interesting.

“So, now we know what lead up to it, now we need to talk punishment. I know some of this is normally done while the miscreant is over your lap, but today we are going to talk it out first. Tell me Brian, what rules have you broken?”

Brian doesn’t have to think too hard, after all it has been pretty much all he has thought of over the last 2 days “Don’t act in temper”

“It’s a good start, but there’s more than just that. Any more you’d like to add?”

Brian stares at them. He can’t think beyond that, and what could be worse than acting in temper. He could, and would, have hurt any or all of them if he hadn’t been stopped.

“I can see you haven’t thought any further. Let’s add the others then. We’ll start with excessive disruption, I think.” 

Brian was speechless. Excessive disruption?

“You caused us to rearrange a meeting with Miami, one which he had turned up for. If you had called in, we could have cancelled and saved him the trip. You have also created 48 hours delay on the recordings. That seems to be covered well by excessive disruption.”

Brian sank back into his chair. He hadn’t considered that at all, as caught up as he had been in the mental self flagellation over losing his temper.

“Next, lying” 

Brian made a startled sound.

“Yes, lying. Similar situation to that which I was in. You could have called in, you could have made us aware. No, you didn’t lie outright, but then we had very little chance to ask you what was wrong. You did, however, omit to make us aware. That, I believe, is a form of lying by omission” Deaky admitted to himself this was stretching it a bit, but he needed to get the point across. “Finally is the issue of self neglect. When was the last time you ate, Brian? How much have you had to drink over these last few days – and I don’t mean liquid of the alcoholic variety! Not to mention shutting yourself away from us all. We won’t be very successful if one of us is in hospital, or worse, through dehydration, kidney failure or starvation. 

“Now, onto the punishment. We are well aware that you have spent the last 48 hours berating yourself, punishing yourself, going over it all many times in your head. That stops now, Brian. And the only way it seems it can be stopped is by us punishing you. We’re not going to be easy on you, but then you wouldn’t thank us if we were. There is one thing you have some say in. And that is the issue of trousers up, or down. I know, we all know, the first offence is trousers up, however as you have broken at least 4 rules at once, plus the severity with which you broke them, leads us to feel that your trousers should be down. It will also help us in another way. However, as the rules state differently, it is your choice.”

Brian is sitting speechless in his chair. He had not realised just how badly he had torn up the rule book. And Deaky is right, he needs to feel the punishment matches the crimes. “Trousers down” he manages to push out through a very tight throat.

“Trousers down it is. And then the punishment itself. Given that Fred got 10 hand spanks just for excessive disruption, we feel this needs something more serious. And we need you to feel the outcome for some time, I think. Certainly long enough that whenever you sit down you are reminded that you have had your punishment, and so there is no need to further punish yourself.” Deaky reaches behind the cushion he is sat against and pulls out a leather belt, to a gasp from Brian and stony looks from Freddie and Roger. “We all agreed, Brian. 20 with the belt – 6 each from Freddie and Roger, as they are the two you were aiming for on Monday, and 8 from me as I was the one who had to deal with the fall out afterwards. When I tell you, you need to come around the back of the couch, lower your trousers and lean over, resting your stomach on the back, leaning your arms on the seat, making sure you are comfortable. At all times you will have one of us holding your hands, but you **will** take all 20 lashes, and then it is **over** , do you understand? No more hiding away, no more beating yourself up about it. You come back to the studio and we start recording once more. And next time one of us three is out of order, you dispense the justice again.” 

Brian can’t speak, he just nods, signifying he has heard the words Deaky said at the very least. 

“Lets make a start then. It’ll be four from me, six from Rog, six from Fred and back to me for the final four, do you understand? You don’t need to count.”

Again, a nod. Brian rises on legs that are even shakier than those that walked him down the stairs, and moves around the coffee table, around to the back of the couch and lowers his trousers. He had gone commando after his shower, expecting some sort of impact punishment, so had chosen his softest pair of tracksuit bottoms and no underwear, thinking he knew what he was likely to suffer – his bandmates had gone far beyond his imaginings though and he knew he wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for some time, no matter what he was wearing.

As he bent over the back of the couch, he noticed Fred was sat on the table in front of him. Fred’s hands gently gripped his once he was in position, and Brian was oddly grateful. He knew this was going to be hard, and knowing that they were planning on helping him through it was more than he could have hoped for.

“Ready?” Brian nodded once more, and held Fred’s hands tighter. He heard the belt swoosh through the air, felt it impact and then felt the sting. The second one fell just below the first, and then the third just below the second. He could hear Fred murmuring something to him and Fred’s hands grip his own, was aware of Roger’s hand between his shoulder blades and Deaky’s hand on the small of his back, but the whoosh, thud and sting was obliterating the voices in his head, giving him room to concentrate on nothing else but the stripes of pain across his backside. There was a pause, and the hands changed. Deaky was in front of him, Fred to the side and Roger behind, swinging the leather strap, causing the thud and then the sting. 

He had started to grunt with each impact he felt, his eyes were watering and his arse was stinging all over. Between Deaky's precisely laid stripes and Rogers slightly wilder ones, they had managed to cover every part of skin from the crease between his thighs and his backside (and that one stroke had probably had the loudest noise from him so far) all the way up to the bottom of his tail bone. He had quickly lost count of how many he had taken, and was just lying there, accepting his punishment, paying penance for the rules he had broken.

Hands were changing places again, and then the whoosh, thud, sting started again. He was aware the others were talking to him, but he couldn’t work out what was being said. He started sobbing sometime after Fred had started his turn, the pain from his backside helping to ease the guilt from his heart. He didn’t even realise when they swapped again, Deaky laying the last four stripes one on top of the other, directly across his sit spot. He was vaguely aware of being helped up, his trousers being removed from his ankles, and then being lowered so he was lying on his side on top of the sofa cushions, somehow moved onto the floor. He slowly came back, finding Roger sat at his head, gently combing fingers through his hair, Fred sat behind him with an arm around his waist and Deaky sat by his feet, gently resting a hand on his uppermost ankle, thumb stroking a gentle sweep from side to side.

“You took that well, Brimi” came softly from his head. “Deaky has some cream if”

Brian shook his head. It may be masochistic, but he needed to know he was going to feel the sting for as long as it took to subside, on its own. He felt a lot lighter, most of the guilt had gone (he would always carry some around with him, but it was no longer suffocating him). Still he wanted to know he would have that reminder for some time, that knowledge of the punishment he had taken, the penance he had paid.

They spent the rest of the day cuddling, sometimes two on the couch, two in the armchair, sometime all squishing along the couch. Brian didn’t sit, preferring to lie along the couch to nobodies surprise, although he did pull his trousers back on when they moved up off the floor. He also gave each and every band member a hug at this point, apologising for his behaviour and thanking them for their part in his punishment. At some point a phone call was made to the cafe around the corner and although home delivery was not something they generally offered, a big enough tip was given to persuade the owner to bring a large platter of sandwiches around to the house, enough to last them through the day, enabling the four to pick at them as they felt hungry, supplemented with whatever crisps and biscuits Brian had in his cupboards.

Thursday, Queen reconvened in the studio, spending the day jamming, for want of a better expression, playing through old favourites of theirs and others, much like when they played the rock and roll medleys in their concerts. Friday was the rearranged meeting with Miami, and if Brian was sitting very gingerly with Miami giving him questioning looks, well the rest of the band just left it to Brian to explain (or not).

It meant they were a week behind on their recording, and meant Miami had some rearranging to do, as best he could. It meant there were going to be some even longer hours put in over the next few weeks, as they tried to mitigate the fall out. But they were stronger as a team, the disciplinarian had been disciplined himself, they had overcome that hurdle and knew they would be able to manage again in the future.

And with that in mind, Brian asked Deaky for a quick chat on Friday afternoon, once the meeting with Miami had concluded. Fred and Rog glanced at each other and scurried out of the studio, there literally was no other word to describe their movement, leaving Brian laughing to himself as he sat on the couch. “Don’t look so nervous, really. I was just wondering how the three of you knew what to do, and so well?” He didn’t need to explain what he was on about.

“Once the rules were drawn up, we realised there was a likely chance you would need a session yourself” Deaky glanced over with a shy grin “Not like any of us are total saints, as we’ve now both proven. And I have … friends I was able to talk to. Some of Deacon John's interests5 weren’t as farfetched as I made out that they were."

Chuckling at the indescribable look on Brian's face, Deaky continued "A conversation for another time, maybe. But anyway I had a good idea of how to carry out a punishment, although I never expected you to tear up the rule book the way you did. I’m only sorry it took us so long to come around to you, we should have dealt with it much sooner - however there was the initial fall out to deal with and then time was needed to decide on the punishment.”

Spluttering slightly, Brian choked out “I know they say you have to watch the quiet ones, but even so.... Thank you Deaky, thank you for for thinking ahead, for preparing for the necessity to discipline me. And thank you again, for stopping me that day, and for knowing what I needed to break the guilt and the fog of loathing that followed. Now, shall we go find if Fred and Rog are hiding in Fred's garden, and reassure them that I am not plotting any sort of revenge.”

Deaky grinned across at him as he stood and moved towards the door. “Fine by me, but remember Fred has just brought that lovely wicker garden furniture.”

Brian groaned audibly, bringing a loud chuckle from Deaky. Those chairs were uncomfortable at the best of times, the wicker had spots where the weave wasn't brilliant and there were occasional splits in the wood, meaning you would end up sitting on a pile of prickles. And though the majority of his backside had subsided to a mild ache, those last four swipes Deaky had placed on top of each other, directly over the area he sat on, were still making themselves well known (and no, he hadn't tried to explain his discomfort to Miami). As he followed Deaky out of the studio, he mused on his chances of spending the evening on one of the garden loungers, although his suspicions (well founded it turned out) were that Fred and Rog were gleefully 'sunbathing' on them, leaving the most uncomfortable seating, cushionless, for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As noted earlier, please see chapter 2 for explanations, or let me know in the comments if there is anything you want further explanation of. It's difficult to know what is and isn't Brit speak, because it is all I know.


	2. Notes and Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes and explanations to make the chapter easier to understand, without having the chapter notes as long as the fic itself!
> 
> Includes:  
> Briticisms  
> Period typical explanations  
> My thoughts on Deacy/Deaky  
> Why Brian was given the punishment he got  
> 

**Deaky or Deacy?**

Brian May, in his Queen in 3D book uses Deacy. The Deacy Amp, made by the man himself, is spelt Deacy. It is also short for Deacon, which would imply Deacy. But his roadie for many years, Ratty, spells it Deaky (see the book Queen, Unseen by Peter Hince). His son spells it Deaky. So who knows which it is, and whether John has any preference. I have used Deaky in this fic to match the Toe the Line Universe.

**Period Typical Explanations and Briticisms**

It is difficult to separate these as some fall in both categories, 3 for example. Depending on your age/location, some of the period typical explanations are hopefully unnecessary. Equally some may be in both categories without me realising.

1Ok, there were (and are) 3 main types of newspapers in England. 1) Local papers - local news, local information, often things not important enough to make the national papers. 2) National papers - Broadsheets. At the time, these were printed on larger sheets of paper and were designed more for the better off/more intellectual people. Wordy, small typeset, in depth news reporting from around the world and including financial news and various other 'high-brow' topics. Reporting would be biased towards the political leaning of the paper's owner, but often in a more subtle way than those in the third category. 3) National papers - Tabloids. Probably about half the height of a broadsheet and aimed at the less well off/less educated part of the population. Larger typeset, easier words, much more obvious political slant in the reporting style, and a much more gossipy style of reporting. Any scandal involving a well known person (royalty, politicians, celebrities), these papers were on it - affairs, divorces, being outed (Paul Prenter sold his story to one of these papers), being a 'sexual deviant'. And there was no guarantee it was true. This didn't stop it being printed though, and everyone knows there is no smoke without fire (heavy sarcasm alert!). The aggressive reporting wasn't just aimed at gossipy 'news' either, there is a well known tabloid that you will not find anywhere within the boundaries of one city in England, not one shop will stock it (and even if they did nobody would buy it) due to the extremely inaccurate, inflammatory reporting of a horrendous tragic incident that occurred 30 years ago - and that is all I am saying on that. Off my soapbox, but as one who was in the scope of their telephoto lens, you can imagine Brian's feelings would be none to kind towards them, and the names he may call them would not be polite.

2If you had a digital alarm clock that plugged into the wall, without the back up of a battery, you were at the mercy of the electricity supply. If there was any drop in power, even for a second, your alarm clock would reset itself. Your alarms would no longer be set, so you wouldn't wake to a beep or the radio depending on your preference. Your time wouldn't be right either, in general it would start as though the time the power dropped was midnight, so if it went at 04:30 am, then at 06:00 your clock would read 01:30. The numbers would also be flashing, indicating that it was unset. The nearest equivalent today would be your smart phone battery dying overnight

3At the time, fish and chip shops would use old newspapers to wrap the food in. So yesterday's newspapers would be today’s fish and chip wrappers. Phased out sometime in the later 1980’s, I believe.

In slightly more detail, chips would be put into a white paper bag and then that would be wrapped in newspaper. Fish, pies etc would be placed on a sheet of greaseproof paper, and wrapped in that before being wrapped in newspaper. The use of newspaper was phased out due to health and safety concerns, nowadays everything is put on greaseproof paper then wrapped in plain white sheets of paper that is, if anything, thinner than newspaper.

4 If the phone handset is not sat properly on its cradle, it will make an annoying noise to make you aware it is not correctly situated (off the hook) and therefore giving an engaged tone to anyone trying to ring you. I cannot remember what it was at that time. However, if you have intentionally taken the phone off the hook, this can be extremely annoying, and putting therefore burying the handset in a drawer would help muffle this noise. The fact that the phone was in the downstairs hallway and Brian is in his bedroom on the first floor would only help hide the sound

5At the time their first album was created, Queen also put together a 2 sided promotional document about the band explaining a little about each of them. I am struggling to find a copy of this online, although there is a reproduction of it included in the book "40 years of Queen". Deaky's sections reads as follows:

Deacon John, bass guitar. Born August 19th, 1951, in Leicester. Deacon John started by playing rhythm guitar at the age of 12 but changed to bass when he was 14. He played with a couple of groups whilst at Beauchamp Grammer School. He later received a First Honours Degree in electronics from Chelsea College. In February 1971, he became the final Ace in Queen. Lists influences as Yes, the World and 60 cycles. His likes are shiny rubber vests, tight wellingtons, rope, elastic, waxed string, raincoats, lino and bowler hats -- and the odd glass of Claret.

**The punishment - an explanation**

Ok, to give an explanation for what appears a very harsh punishment, I need first to delve into corporal punishment in England. Right up until 1986, corporal punishment was permitted in English state (public) schools. This usually involved the application of a rattan cane across the palm of the hand or across the clothed buttocks (the latter most common for teenage boys). An alternative would be the use of a rubber soled gym shoe, again across the clothed buttocks. Records of these punishments had to be kept with some of the punishment books still surviving today (see https://www.corpun.com/counuks.htm and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/School_corporal_punishment#United_Kingdom for more detail). At home also, corporal punishment was permitted. Currently smacking/light spanking is still permitted in England within guidelines (around location, leaving of marks), but at the time, the strap, belt, slipper, wooden spoon, cane and more were all acceptable (and I am struggling to find any source as to when they were banned, I will keep looking for details on this). So all four members of Queen, both in this universe and in real life, would have grown up around physical punishments for misbehaviour, indeed there is a good chance that both at home and at school they will have been on the receiving end. So whilst the punishment in the fic seems harsh, it is not something they would be unfamiliar with. And Brian is in such a negative space in his head he needs something harsh to snap him out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, no comments on my use of the word 'incident' in 1. I have chosen it very carefully, and depending on the outcome of the case I will update it.

**Author's Note:**

> And as I said before, please look at chapter 2 for any explanations, or let me know in the comments if there is something you want/need explaining that I have missed.


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